Of Happenings that Lead to Death
by ThatOneGuyThatDoesTheStuff
Summary: Ozpin makes a deal with a dangerous man. One capable of murder without thought. That man starts teaching at beacon, preparing the students for the war that will inevitably come. This story revolves around an empty man; silence follows him, death around his head like a cloud. He yearns to be wrapped in Death's embrace. This is the story of how he dies.


**A/N HI GUYS! This is my first Fanfic, so please drop a review, pm, or whatever to let me know anything i can improve on. Anyways, Enjoy!**

All was still. There was a silence in the air; a special stillness that comes in parts. Tonight there was only one, the gentle, stifling tension of the calm before the storm. A raging whirlwind of thought and action and death would come, but for now there was just that odd tension, that feeling in the air that something was about to happen.

And then.

A single drop fell from the sky. A prelude of what's to come. It landed on a head. A person standing up amidst the tension (or perhaps, the cause of it). The drop fell slowly to the observer, taking its time meandering down from the clouds. It blew this way and that with the tense wind; sauntering through the trees, and landing with a gentle _plok_ on the person's head. He glanced up and looked to the sky, and the sky looked back on his face; it shuddered and wept for the sadness on the face.

Amidst the pouring rain, the torrential wind, and the raging tempest around him, there was a strange calm on the man's face. It was the cut-throat calm of a man waiting for his fate to come take him.

* * *

A man came walking down the street. It was not unusual for this to happen, nor was it spectacular in it's happenstance. But it _was_ unusual this time. The man was dressed in a green coat and carried a cane in his right hand. He wore glasses on his face that was topped with a grayish white hair and in his left hand was a mug of what I could only guess was coffee. He gazed levelly ahead and did not falter from whatever was in his sight. I glanced over my shoulder to my fellow partner in crime, a 17 year old girl named Leyla. She nodded imperceptibly at me. I frowned in response.

"This guy looks like he might be important. We don't want to anger anyone in high places. I say call it off." She shook her head in response. I shrugged to that. She called the shots after all, so if she thought the risk was worth it, it must be worth it. I pulled my pistol from its holster on my lower back, keeping the second one where it was. And the third. And I really don't think I'll need the fourth. I prepared to drop down from the building we were seated on. The day had been going how it always was. Set up in the seedier parts of the city, rob anyone Leyla said to. Simple as that. Easy life, easy money. All there was to it. This guy looked like he was of the important type, but even the best fighters acknowledge to the superior powers of our perfectly planned ambushes. I waited till the man walked past where I was sitting and then dropped down behind him, gun pressed against the back of his head. At the same time Leyla dropped in front of him, a dueling sword leveled at his throat. He stopped dead in his tracks.

"And what might you two be doing out this late? Shouldn't children be in bed by this time, hmmm?" Was all the man said. I blinked.

 _Is he being serious right now?_ I thought.

"One might think that, but why would you be out this late?" Leyla replied arrogantly. _Yep that's just the right way to take things right now. Good job Leyla._ I shouldn't think like that. After all she _is_ a genius.

"That is my own business. Now, what do you want?"

"Simple. We get your money, you get your life. Really you have no choice in the matter as I'm sure you've realised," To emphasize this I pressed the gun harder into his back. It really was a genius way to operate. Keeping them pinned between us two with no way to run really makes it easy on us. Usually they give up the money without a second thought, although there have been times we've had to fight them for it. Those we're bad omens for us. We always got what we wanted in the end, and we never killed them. Sure, we left more than a few unconscious with my dust imbued bullets, but that always forced us to move our base of operations. Cost us valuable money to set up somewhere else and it forced us to scope out more viable streets to hang out in waiting for our prey. All in all it sucked for both parties if our prey fought back.

"You will drop your cane on the ground and reach for your wallet. Any funny business and I won't hesitate to shoot you in the back." I told him. He complied easily dropping the cane and reaching into his back pocket. He pulled out a wallet and tossed it on the ground next to the cane.

"There you go. Now, may I please pass? You won't find any lien in there by the way. I'm not in the habit of carrying it around for this exact reason." My sister's expression darkened.

"Oh is that so? Roan check it please." I complied easily, keeping the gun pressed against his back then his side as I reached down to pick it up. Faster than the eye could follow the man kicked at my face. I jerked my face back just in time, keeping my nose intact from the blow. _Damn he's fast_ I thought as he leapt back from my sister in nearly the same motion, landing lightly on his feet with the cane in his hand, coffee cup in the other. _What the fuck? When did he get his cane back?_ I resisted the urge to glance back at where the wallet was, instinctively knowing that doing so would result in me being struck from behind. The man nodded imperceptibly, almost as if he recognized and approved of my action. I swung my gun up, pointing it at him. "Wrong move old man." I shouted at him, squeezing the trigger and releasing a torrent of special stun shots at him. The man seemed to fizzle out and disappear. Instinctively I rolled forward, feeling the wind of _something_ brush past where my head had been a moment before.

"Good, good. Nice reflexes there, although your timing and sense of tact is lacking. You definately make up for it in fighting skills." He said from _right behind me_. _Damn what was that_ I thought as I whipped around, shooting at where he was. Leyla whipped her sword at him, aiming a slash across his chest. He calmly raised his cane and stopped the blow almost leisurely

"Now now let's not have any violence. I wouldn't want to have to hurt you two." He said it almost teasingly, a faint smile playing at his lips. Mocking, almost. He inclined his head in our direction, a bow of sorts. "However I must admit you two are pretty good. If it wasn't for the fact that I must be somewhere of utmost importance I would dally a while longer to have a nice chat. But unfortunately I cannot, so, I must be on my way. Before I go, I should like to invite you to my school. My name is Professor Ozpin and I run a very famous school. It's called Beacon Academy, and you may have heard of it." With that the man known as Ozpin turned and walked away, cane in hand a cup of coffee raised to his lips.

* * *

A man sat on the ground. HIs back was pressed against the wall of a building. That building was grey and lifeless, although the man seemed to leech from it, growing more grey and lifeless, while the building seemed to be cheerful and full in comparison. Such was the nature of this sad man, whose face caused the very skies to weep for the sadness dealt upon it. His eyes were cold and dull, unfocused from his surroundings. To the casual observer he was dead inside. To the more observant, he was waiting for something. A single tear meandered through the grime on his face, leaving a clean trail of skin in stark contrast. The teardrop travelled slowly down to his chin, hanging there for the briefest of moments. It hung there as dew hangs on a spiderweb, gracefully, beautifully. Like a lovers embrace, it hung there tenderly. Like a cloak of shadows, it concealed him.

Like iron shackles, it weighed him down.

And like a drop of crimson blood, it defined him.

Tension built in the man's face. It was not noticeable, for his face never changed. It was still empty, devoid. Yet anyone who would happen to look at it would know. Know undeniably and inexplicably to get away. Unconsciously they would glance away, pick up their pace and hurry away, not knowing why they did so. Not knowing why they fear.

And yet.

Tension built around him like armor, and still in the distance, just turning the corner down the street. A man looked around with a purpose, and his gaze landed on the man leaning against the buildings. And it did not move, nor waver. Nor did he flinch away. He walked directly towards the strange man who caused others to fear. _click...click...click…_ went his cane as he walked. He slurped his coffee softly.

A single ghost of a whisper, a promise of intelligence breathed through the air like fog from a breath. His face never changed, although it seemed to solidify into something else. Something predatory grew around him, enveloping him in a harsh aura. Suddenly, movement. A fluid grace seemed to sprout from the ground. Suddenly the man was standing, his face a predator. A hunter. His prey stopped, cane held loosely in his hand. Then he continued to the predator, calm unflinching.

A battle of wills. Who would back off first. And then they were face to face, standing just feet apart. Close enough to reach out and touch. Close enough to feel the grudging respect for each other. Prey and predator stood gazing at each other, unflinching in the face of this terrible tension, tension no storm could ever hope to match.

And then it was gone. With a single utterance.

"So what does the famous headmaster want with me?" The strange man said meeting Ozpin's eyes, a wide smile on his face. But it wasn't quite right. Was it too wide? Too toothy? Too perfectly normal on that face? But no. It couldn't be. He looked perfectly normal now. Nondescript. Bland. Average. He's slightly tall, standing a full inch above Ozpin. He's average build; not too thick, not too thin. Boring even. Unnoticeable in a crowd. Unnapposing. But still. A danger lay under that mask. Perhaps it was the tension in his muscles, not a bulging hulk but a thin, wiry bunch of tight coils. Like a spring wound too tight. Like a panther wishing to spring.

"I am here because I want you to do something for me. It's not a large thing, and if you wish you can decline, but I would ask you at least think about it. I have a proposition for you to come teach at beacon. Due to unfortunate circumstances, I have a need of someone of your specific talents." The man's face went slack. He didn't move a muscle. He stood there quietly.

And then softly he said "You want me to teach them how to fight people. How to harm each other in a fight and out of one, don't you?" All Ozpin could do was nod.

"The only thing I ask is don't tell them that. It's bad enough I have to find someone to teach them how to hurt each other. I don't want them to know that's what they're going to be trained for."

"So you want me to teach them how to kill without their knowledge of it. I'm going to go out on a limb here and take a wild guess. The White Fang have you worried. Worried enough to hire me to teach." The man's demeanor had completely changed. It was no longer timid. No longer nondescript. If an observer had seen the before and after, they would have been shocked, thinking how could I have not seen this man. He was not taller, broader, or even thicker. But he commanded attention now. He was no longer lifeless and dull, and the path that the tear had made down his face was as clear as the sun on a cloudless day, as clear as the howling wind in a storm. Contrasting with the grime it shone in the light. The area around him seemed to hold its breath as he paused, considering. And then he smiled a dangerous smile. "Very well. I accept under one condition. At the end of this all, you find a way to make me die." Ozpin's eyes widened in surprise, his mouth agape. The strange man leaned against the wall, perfectly nonchalant. And then he closed it, considering his next words carefully. And then he spoke words he never expected him to say "After you train the group to kill the White Fang and they succeed, I promise I will do all in my power to see you dead." A savage smile played on the man's lips.

"Please. I work for you now, so please call me by name. It happens to be the only thing of value I retain."

"Oh? And what would that name be?" Ozpin answered, intrigued. No one really knew this man's name.

"Roan Keltiere. Do well not to let anyone else know, or I will find a way to kill you. It won't be pleasant." With that the smile faded, replaced by that blank mask, devoid of life. Unnoticeable. Unwanted.

Untold.

 **A/N So ya. Please let me know what you guys think, both positive and negative criticism is accepted (Just keep things civil is all I ask). Anyways thanks for reading!**


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